Mom's Overheard Words

Alice’s little feet padded softly down the hallway, the worn carpet muffling her steps. The house hummed with its usual afternoon symphony of distant chatter from her many siblings, the clatter of pots from the kitchen, and the gentle murmur of the television in the living room. But Alice wasn't really hearing it. Her ears were tuned to a different frequency, a whisper of worry that had been growing inside her for weeks. She felt like a tiny boat adrift on a vast, unpredictable sea, constantly scanning the horizon for a lighthouse, a sign that she was truly seen, truly loved.

She found herself drifting towards the kitchen, drawn by the comforting scent of baking cookies and the familiar voices of Mom and Mary, her two moms. They were often in the kitchen together, a warm, loving hub in their bustling household. Alice paused just outside the doorway, her hand hovering near the frame, not quite ready to step into their orbit. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, not really. It was more like she was hoping to catch a stray beam of sunshine, a hint of the affection she felt was always directed elsewhere, mostly towards Olivia. Olivia, with her bright smile and easy laughter, always seemed to have Mom’s undivided attention.

“And you know,” Sandra’s voice, warm and melodic like always, drifted from the kitchen, “I was just thinking about how much I love them all.”